Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 575 Time Has Caught Me
“‘Supreme Star’ Theodora.”

“This is the daughter of the Oathkeeper, a noble royal princess,” Norb paused, looking at Thales with a meaningful gaze:
"Duchess of Star Lake".

The Oath Keeper's Daughter?

Thales's breath hitched slightly as he gazed at the female knight with her sharp eyes and thin, smiling lips.

"She never married and was not well-known in history, but she was the longest-serving chief intelligence officer of the secret service—her elven blood made her long-lived and healthy—so long that she had to retire early and appoint another chief intelligence officer to avoid controversy in the court and among the people."

Tyre looked at the strikingly beautiful princess and the Duchess of Starlake with curiosity.

His...ancestor.

【Theodora E.M. Starlight, 354-?】

Her aura inevitably evokes the image of the Fortress Flower, yet the latter falls far short of Theodora's dazzling, silvery radiance and domineering presence that compels one to bow down.

“But it doesn’t say her year of death,” Thales said, puzzled.

Norb smiled:
"Because we—the secret society itself—don't know either."

"It is said that when Princess Theodora finally left the Secret Society at the age of 101 and drifted away, the reigning 'surviving king' Elan III was already her great-grandson."

In contrast, her brothers died much younger.

Norb pondered.

Thales' gaze shifted downwards, and he immediately saw the princess's embroidered quote in gold thread:
[Look, look, look! What are you looking at, you idiot?]

Thales petrified in place.

What the hell?

Thales stared at the neatly embroidered, yet foul-mouthed "princess quote," his face twitching in disbelief.

This is……

Princess Star?

"Can't you say something different? Something normal?"

Nob gave an awkward look and hesitated:

"Well, since it's her own wish, it's not convenient to say that."

What if she comes back someday—he bit the word down.

Thales narrowed his eyes, understanding.

He readily accepted the good advice and stopped looking at Theodora's portrait.

"As you can see, although she was a woman, Theodora was tough and domineering during her reign, which is rare in history."

Norb then explained:
“From her onwards, the Kingdom’s Secret Service has spread its spies around the world, and they are ruthless, radical and vengeful.”

"If necessary, she will stop at nothing to achieve her goals and will not hesitate to issue controversial overseas assassination missions, even if it may trigger a war."

Overseas assassination.

Thales was taken aback.

He remembered what King Nunn had told him that night about the fate of his eldest son.

"But it is said that in those years, the Dark Chamber dreamed of crossing the Great Needle Forest to the south, and Kuntana did not dare to cross the End Sea. Even though they hated it to the core, no one dared to touch even a hair on the head of the Secret Service's spies."

Nob gazed at this special Star Princess, making no attempt to hide the admiration and longing in his eyes.

Thales let out a breath.

Damn secret service.

How many details about this place have not been written in history books?

"Oh, I'm afraid we'll have to look at these three together."

Norb leaned on his cane with great interest, seemingly still getting used to his new third leg.

He pointed to another painting on Thales, depicting a tall, handsome, and dashing man:

Noah C.P. Armand, 434–462

"'Lone Sail,' Noah Armand."

"He is rumored to be one of Queen Elijah the Conqueror's lovers."

The Queen's lover...

and so.

Is this the king's man?

Norb lowered his head and blinked, his previous solemnity gone:

"Of course, some people say that the northern conquerors like to hunt for women."

Upon hearing the gossip, Thales's gaze towards the handsome man Noah changed.

From a distance, Noah in the painting appears to be physically fit and handsome, truly outstanding and a top choice.

Norb shook his head and said:
"But unfortunately, with Queen Erica's fall from power, Lone Sail was sent to the guillotine by his own deputy and successor."

"A deputy? By one's own deputy?"

Thales frowned, recalling his family's tavern at Camp Bake and its thought-provoking signboard.

Norb nodded and sighed:
"Indeed, not every pair of partners can work together as well and cooperate seamlessly as Lenster and Halva."

He looked at the next painting.

"And that is Lone Sail's second-in-command."

There was a hint of awe in Norb's words:
"The Pale Baron, Sancho."

Thales looked up and saw a man in the painting whose face was deathly pale, but who had a pair of deep eyes.

Sancho had a handsome face and an elegant demeanor. His long, slender fingers, which were plucking the strings of his harp, gave him the appearance of a learned and talented man.

Rather than the intelligence chief of the underworld.

[Sancho D.D. Doyle, 438-489]

Upon seeing the surname, Thales was momentarily taken aback:
"Doyle? His last name is Doyle?"

Norb asked in confusion:
"Yes, what's wrong?"

Doyle, the Pale Baron.

“It’s nothing.” Thales shook his head, recalling the previous “wise minister” Kalabyan:
"Exactly, whenever you put these kinds of noun combinations together..."

Thales tried to banish the image of his other carefree bodyguard and his equally eccentric father from his mind, and sighed:
"It always makes people wonder, 'History, what have you done to them?'"

"Please continue."

Norb was somewhat confused, but continued:
"Sancho was once the chief of cruel officials under the Red King John II, wielding immense power and with a bloody hand."

"Before him, the Secret Service was just an intelligence agency, but under his control it became a terrifying monster that combined surveillance, control, trial, law enforcement, violence, propaganda, censorship, and stability maintenance."

Norbu spoke with dramatic intonation, as if he were telling a ghost story.

"As the most powerful intelligence chief in history, he unleashed the Red King's rage and tyranny, doing whatever he pleased, and his immense power brought an end to the historical legacy of countless noble families."

Thales frowned and looked at this different Doyle again: he was refined and elegant, and in no way resembled a bloodthirsty executioner.

Nob's tone became urgent, as if he were witnessing the bloodshed of those years:
"Until the Pale Baron also died at the hands of his second-in-command and successor, 'Black Messenger' Mason Zonevid."

Thales raised an eyebrow.

He died at the hands of his deputy again.

He followed Nob's gaze and saw a third person:
[Mason H.A. Zonevid, 443-506]

This person stood alone in the darkness, his eyes were gloomy, and although his appearance was not bad, he seemed mean and ungrateful, like a wild beast lurking in the corner, ready to devour its prey.

Judging solely from the portraits, Lone Sail Armand is a righteous and heroic young man, Pale Baron Doyle is a self-admiring and gentle scholar, while the Black Messenger Zonevid...

Without a doubt, his sinister and terrifying demeanor made him seem like a villain.

Nob's voice came through:
"The Black Messenger betrayed his master for personal gain, killed Sancho but failed to surrender. He was fortunate enough to receive the first execution order issued by the 'wise king' Mindis III after his accession to the throne: to spend the rest of his life in the prison of bones."

Thales let out a long sigh:

"So, from the time of the Northern Expedition to the Red King, all three intelligence chiefs of the Secret Service died in internal strife and did not have a good end."

What, is backstabbing common in the Kingdom's Secret Service?
Seemingly sensing the Duke's sentiments, Norb said slowly:
"During that period, the kingdom was in chaos."

Thales nodded.

"A little tidbit," Nob said in a low voice with a slight smile, perhaps to lighten the mood.
"It is said that all three of these stewards slept with Queen Erica, or rather, were slept with by the Queen."

He slept with the Queen.

Thales raised an eyebrow and glanced at the portraits of Lone Sail, the Pale Baron, and the Black Messenger. He suddenly realized that they were all strong men, some heroic, some gentle, and some gloomy, each with their own unique characteristics.

Okay.

Taking advantage of her position... this queen really knows how to enjoy life.

“It’s really chaotic,” Thales blinked.
"In every sense of the word."

Just now.

"enough."

They all turned around and found Raphael standing behind them, looking displeased.

He stared at Nob with a gloomy expression, then looked at the prince reproachfully.

"I told you not to move around."

The Bone Man said coldly:

"Especially with strangers."

Thales glanced at Nob, who lowered his head apologetically.

Duke Xinghu twitched the corner of his mouth.

"I'm sorry, I thought..."

Thales glanced at the room behind Raphael:
"Wiping your bottom isn't that quick."

Raphael and Thales' eyes met in mid-air, exchanging a flurry of swordplay across the distance.

Norbu, observing the situation, stepped forward and bowed at the opportune moment:
"Raphael."

Raphael seemed to only then notice the man with the cane, and replied in a cool tone:
"Nob."

For some reason, Thales sensed that their relationship was somewhat strained.

Norb smiled slightly:
"So, I've heard about a sudden major case involving the nobles of the Western Wilderness and the Seven Servants of Brilliant Star?"

Raphael nodded, a hint of detachment in his voice:

"Yes."

Nob nodded knowingly, gazing into Raphael's red eyes:

"Okay, although it's not my case, if you need help..."

Raphael interrupted him without a word:
"If I need help." Seeing that the other party was unwilling to say more, Nob stopped talking to him and turned to Thales.

“I haven’t had a chance to thank you yet, Your Highness Thales,” Nob said respectfully.
"If you would do me the honor, I would like to visit you later..."

“Your Highness has other important matters to attend to,” Raphael suddenly stepped in front of Thales, his voice carrying a warning:

“But he came in private.”

Nobu stopped silently.

“Of course,” he said, nodding dejectedly at Raphael, who remained unyielding.
"of course."

Nob bowed to Thales again, then, leaning on his clumsy cane, turned and limped away.

His figure was lonely and somewhat pitiful.

Thales felt a pang of pity seeing this.

"What did Nob do?"

After Norb left, Thales suddenly asked.

Raphael frowned:
"what?"

Thales followed in the footsteps of the Bone Man:
"What did he do wrong during that bloody year that led to his being sent to the Western Wilderness, akin to exile?"

Raphael's expression tightened:
"You'll have to ask him, or the lord."

Really? Thales observed Raphael's expression and hummed twice.

“If you would like to take a day trip to the Secret Society, Your Highness,” Raphael said unhappily, “I can easily fulfill your request without having to trouble anyone else.”

"What, are you jealous because I'm so popular? Are you jealous?" Thales was happy to see Raphael looking unhappy.

Raphael gave a soft snort and continued on his way.

"Okay, so, Guide Raphael, who is this?"

Thales pointed casually.

Raphael glanced at it:
"Lisandro Esposito, has no nickname."

Or perhaps they have too many nicknames, so they simply choose not to use them.

Thales leaned closer to the portrait; it depicted a middle-aged man with a humble smile and a kind, unassuming demeanor.
Lisandro Esposito, 530-602

When you realize your mistake, you've done the right thing.

"He was born in the year the wise king died. As the son of a lowly leatherworker, he changed his fate by passing a literacy exam and eventually became the chief intelligence officer of Sumer IV, the 'Tartary,' and attended the royal council."

Raphael moved forward steadily, completely ignoring Thales falling behind him:
“From him onwards, the Kingdom’s Secret Service swept away the old traditions and was no longer the king’s private toy. Instead, it became a national intelligence agency with clear responsibilities, efficient operation, sufficient budget, and important status. Little by little, step by step, it has taken back the disadvantages we have faced in the dark room for the past hundred years.”

"Thus, the secret discipline of today came into being."

Raphael spoke with respect.

Thales had to quicken his pace to keep up with Raphael's unsympathetic stride.

"And he was also Lord Morat Hansen's teacher."

Raphael walked out of the corridor and came to a uniquely shaped iron door. He then made a gesture with his finger, opening the magic lock in the ripples of air and entering a dimly lit inner room.

"You mean the Black Prophet?"

Thales quickly followed and entered the inner room:

"His teacher?"

But the moment he stepped inside, Thales suddenly felt a pang of panic!
The sins of the River of Hell stirred restlessly, but unlike any danger before, this feeling was ethereal yet chilling.

A faint rustling sound rang in my ears, reminiscent of the slithering of snakes.

Fortunately, the feeling was fleeting, almost imperceptible.

If it were any shorter, Thales might even think it was an illusion.

what happened?

Thales adjusted to the dimness of the inner room and followed Raphael's footsteps with trepidation.

"You should know that we don't usually use this nickname, Your Highness."

The Bone Man's tone became cautious:

"Especially in the secret service."

"Why?" In the dim light, after walking forward for more than ten meters, Thales, still immersed in the fear he had just experienced, subconsciously asked:
Why not mention it?

The next second, a hoarse voice, absent for six years, rang out from the darkness:

"Just like we usually don't mention 'under skirt stars' in front of you."

"Your Highness Thales."

This is……

Upon hearing that voice, the prince stopped in his tracks, not even having time to understand the teasing in the other person's words.

The feeling of panic returned, even more intense than before.

The sins of the River of Prisons are restless and unending.

Raphael stopped a few steps in front of him and turned around.

The person behind him was revealed.

Thales' eyes widened.

He had anticipated this scene, but...

“Lord Hansen,” Thales stared intently at the thin, dark figure before him:
"haven't seen you for a long time."

Before him sat Lord Morat Hansen, the Black Prophet, King Kessel's current intelligence chief, the head of the secret service who had faded from the public eye for many years, sitting in a black wheelchair, facing him.

The old man, panting heavily, raised his frail, emaciated face and gave Thales a chilling smile.

Thales looked at Morat with some surprise.

how……

He remembered six years ago, when the Black Prophet, though old, was still vigorous and imposing, and could even threaten Gilbert and Ginny while leaning on his cane.

but now……

Thales stared blankly at the wheelchair beneath the other person.

How could he look so frail and near death?

But Thales quickly realized something was wrong.

"Hiss... hiss..."

His hellish senses fed him countless chilling rustling sounds—originating from that black, colorless "wheelchair."

The sins of the River of Hell spread to Thales' eyes, allowing him to see into the dimly lit room.

Thales instinctively looked down and saw that the Black Prophet's wheelchair was "wrapped" with countless sticky, wet black veins, like muscle textures, which also enveloped Morat's legs.

It also wriggles, contracts, and breathes from time to time.

That's not a wheelchair.

At that moment, Thales truly felt his hair stand on end.

That was a...living thing.

Like branches, like vines, like tentacles.

Its rear extends into the interior walls, spreading like vines across half the room all the way to the ceiling.

Morat, sitting in a "wheelchair," seemed to have "grown" out of these vines.

Thales gasped for breath, suddenly remembering the Blood Mage he once was.

This is……

“Don’t be afraid,” Morat breathed with difficulty, raising his withered arm to connect with thousands upon thousands of writhing, black vines that writhed like a thousand snakes:
"Some necessary measures are like taking medicine to treat an illness."

Raphael stood to the side, his expression unchanged.

Treating illness with medicine?

It took Thales several seconds to calm down.

"Your Excellency, what's wrong?"

Morat chuckled, causing the black vein vines around him to tremble.

"old."

“Your Excellency Duke of Starlake,” the Black Prophet’s voice was somewhat ethereal, yet still chilling, “Time has caught me.”

"Just as it once caught Teacher Lisandro, it also caught His Majesty Eddie."

"Just like it will eventually catch everyone."

The Black Prophet's eyes flickered, revealing longing:

"Except for elves, of course."

Thales breathed heavily, momentarily unsure how to face the monstrous figure before him.

"As you can see, Your Highness, the Kingdom's Secret Service has had forty-seven Grand Secretaries," Morat said, regaining his composure.

"All are closely connected with the stars, sharing both glory and disgrace."

"Inseparable".

“We are not your enemies, Thales,” Morat said, glancing with a touch of melancholy at the disgusting creature that was wrapped around half of his body, and called out the Duke’s name:

"In fact, we are struggling just like you."

Thales stared intently at the black vines, feeling a twitch in his brow.

The Black Prophet raised his hand and did something, and the black vines that had spread across half of his body trembled all at once, detaching themselves from the back of his "wheelchair" and "releasing" Morat.

"Hiss hiss hiss..." The sound of the vines contracting was chilling.

Only the part still wrapped around the wheelchair continued to move back and forth, like maggots swarming and pupae convulsing.

Seeing this, Thales felt some discomfort in his abdomen.

Morat closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths, and then weakly opened them, nodding to Raphael.

"let's start."

The Bone Man bowed respectfully, turned around, opened another door, and disappeared into the darkness behind it.

Seeing Raphael leave, Thales suddenly realized that all that remained in the room were himself, the Black Prophet, and... those black "things".

This thought made him uneasy.

Would you mind giving me a push, Your Highness?

Morat stretched out his withered hand toward Thales, opened his oddly shaped mouth, and laughed like a dead man in a coffin:
"Don't worry, this time it won't be mind reading."

That's right, I'm the author's neighbor's dog, woof!
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(End of this chapter)